Cindarella Gregory/1871-04-03
Geneva, Apr. 3, 1871 Dear Frank, I sent you a line the morning Ann & I reached home, telling you the sad news of Sarah's death. Altho' I have not heard from you since, I thot perhaps you would like to know the particulars, or at least some of them. Sarah's married life, tho' short, had been unusually happy. They loved each other tenderly & devotedly and it was only the Saturday evening before her death that I received a letter from her saying they felt paid for staying in that cold climate all winter, for Mr. Gaffield's health was so much better than for years. She said nothing of herself, and we knew nothing of her condition. Mr. G. has since written us that she had anticipated so much pleasure in surprising us, particularly father, with the news that an heir had been born to them -- if a boy she was intending to name it Frederic and if a girl Florence, instead oh! what a surprise! She had been very well, and that morning was down to breakfast. Was taken sick about 10 o'clock A.. and died without a struggle about 10 o'clock in the evening. She had two of the most eminent Physicians in Canada, but no mortal power could save either mother or child. She seemed to retain her consciousness to the last, raising her arms, looked with a smile toward heaven, then closed her eyes and was gone. "Can you imagine," says Mr. G. in one letter, "anything more beautiful than that?" Mr. Gaffield with his Private Secretary started with the remains, but having reached Prescot, he was unable to go farther, being completely prostrate. Mr. Ross came on alone. The large casket, with the little one attached, told its own story and arrived here about midnight. It seemed so sad, so heart-rending, to receive those precious remains at such an hour, and to find, too, that Mr. Gaffield was not able to come with them. Father was completely broken down, you remember Sarah was the youngest and his favorite among us, as she remained at home longer than the rest of us. The bodies had been prepared by a patent process, and altho' they had been kept just one week on the day of burial, there was nothing unpleasant or offensive, not the least taint to remind us there of the presence of Death. She was laid out in her wedding dress, and as she lay there amid the flowers beautiful & rare that kind friends had so lovingly arranged, with that sweet smile upon her face it seemed to us that she must speak to us; it surely could not be Death that sealed those precious lips. And the little one, a finely developed boy, lay amid its bed of flowers as if quietly sleeping. The funeral was at the house Mon. P.M. Dr. Wood of Geneva officiated. Tuesday morning we took our sad journey to Naples to lay away our dead. A similar service had been arranged to take place at Aunt Cinda's. The coffins were taken into the house and opened. The bodies were still in a good state of preservation and it was such a comfort to us all. It was a scene long to be remembered, and one perhaps never witnessed before by any one present. As we went to the Cemetery, the Hearse that accompanied us from Geneva carried the large coffin, and an old friend carried the smaller in her arms. We laid them beside our dear Mother to await the Resurrection Morn and returned to our homes with saddened & chastened hearts. Sarah had made friends wherever she had been, and had developed into a splendid woman, and if a kind Father could have permitted mother and child to live, how grateful we would have been. "Oh!" says Mr. Gaffield in a letter, "if they would have lived, our joy would have known no bounds, but I am even denied even the privilege of attending the last sad rites of my dear wife." Our pain is great, but we know his is greater. Wife and child both taken in a moment when he looked for double life. The ways of Providence are indeed mysterious, but we know He afflicts in mercy. We find ourselves wondering why this was permitted. Why could I not have been taken and she left to make happy those who loved her so tenderly. These are moments when we throw off the outward garb and look within with clearer eyes and deeper gaze, and oh Frank, shall we, with the gates of Eternity scarcely open to us, shall we longer cherish such feelings towards each other as now seem to possess us! Circumstances prevent my returning to the Seminary, but can we not forgive the wrongs done to each other and thus wipe out this great stain upon our memories? By the sacred ties of friendship that once bound us, and the pleasant memories of those times, and by all we hope for the future, can we not forgive each other and in our feelings become reconciled? Life is too short, hangs by a too brittle thread, to cherish feelings that show themselves in every act. When I read this & that in the Feb. Nr. that was sent to my friends to read also, I thot can it be possible that Mrs. Shimer will permit such statements to find a place there, when for so many years we labored side by side to build up the school to its present position! Can it be? Do I read aright? After hours of hard struggle, I was permitted to read it calmly, and can now say "Yes, I can and will forgive even that," altho' it brought with it a remembrance of similar wrongs that provoked and chafed my very nature at the time, compelling me to say and do many things that I regretted a moment after. And now, dear Frank, I leave the matter with you, but do let us do away with all this ill feeling, and forgive each other as we hope to be forgiven. Yours, Cinda C.M. Gregory